The Final Cut
by Subtledagger
Summary: You're the only person who understands me.'It is the summer before the final battle with Lord Voldemort and Harry finds an unexpected comfort within the steely walls of the dark lord himself. Sometimes it’s not as easy as it seems to truly distinguish dar
1. Mutual Understanding

Chapter One — Mutual Understanding

Harry woke up again in a cold sweat for the third time that night.

It wasn't even as though his dreams were bad. His scar had progressively ceased to hurt and the nightmares with it had stopped. He was suffering from a different problem; guilt.

He felt like he was betraying something inside himself when he realised that he wanted to speak to Voldemort. It hurt worse when he realised that he was actually looking forward to doing so. From his previous conversations it was obvious that Voldemort understood more about Harry than Harry had given him credit for, even pointing out his own strengths and weaknesses where Harry was clueless.

Harry shook his head to try and clear out the cobwebs in his thoughts and reassure himself that he wasn't as bad as he sounded. Some would say that enjoying talking to the person that murdered your parents was sick and sadistic, but Harry believed that they would have felt differently in his situation.

How had he got into this position? Harry stiffened inside his bed and reached onto the mahogany dressing table for his glasses. Picking up a muggle book that he had stolen from the library when the Dursleys wouldn't give him anything to read, he tried to become engrossed in it and ignore the fact that his mind was screaming at him. He turned the pages trying to banish the evil demon from within his brain. He had fought Voldemort on numerous occasions; he had tried to save everyone he cared about. He wanted to kill Voldemort. He didn't know why the guilt was suddenly overwhelming his insides or why the bad taste flickered across his tongue but there was something about his physical demeanour that scared him, like a warning. His back ached and his stomach lurched, perhaps the wrongness outward was showing a real problem inside. It was ridiculous to suggest that Harry was feeling anything like compassion for Voldemort; he could not feel sorry for a cold blooded murderer. But it was true that he was interested. How could the head boy, who everyone considered so great have turned out like that?

Harry glanced at the badge on his nightstand, he had written to professor McGonagall time and time again, insisting that he wasn't coming back to school. She, however, had refused to accept his answer and stated that whether he came back or not, he still owed Hogwarts a head boy. His eyes darkened. He hated to admit it to himself but he was more than mutinous at her, how could it be important to be at Hogwarts when the horcruxes still needed to be found? The letters from professor McGonagall all occupied the same part of the room, the dustbin. And until peace washed over the world, Harry swore that that's where they would remain.

Putting down the book and closing his tired eyes he willed his thoughts away from Voldemort and tried to concentrate on other things. But the difficult fact to accept was that Voldemort was his world and that his life couldn't continue until he was dead. It was definitely morbid to realise that he couldn't carry on until he became a murderer, but sometimes, Harry mused, the end really did justify the means.

The swirling colours that accompanied his fall into slumber bought about an echoed calling of his name. Before long, Harry opened his eyes. Now completely immersed in the world of dreams, he strained hard to hear the dulcet tones that called for him so assertively.

He floated through an iron grate, revelling in the power of the dream. Harry enjoyed his dreams, there were no limitations to him, if he wanted to do something, he did it. Falling back to solid earth he walked slowly across the cast iron floors, his footsteps echoing with the same eerie consistency of the voice. A rhythm built up around him. For every step he took, his name was cried out again. This ominous beat accompanied him on his way but it seemed far more natural than it would in the daytime, in the real world. As Harry had secretly suspected and hoped for, he found himself staring down at the visage of Tom Riddle. Tom was hugging his knees and as Harry looked down he could see that Tom's ankles were tied to the sides of the wall. The metal clasps were rusted, but had still stood up to the obvious heaving and pulling as Tom had tried to wrench himself free. Tom looked up and smiled a nice smile motioning for Harry to sit down. Without really thinking, Harry did so, and Tom adjusted his position, the chains clunking against the floor as he moved creakily.

'Where are we?' Harry asked without looking the teenager in the eyes.

'Prison,' Tom responded with a glance at the overly welded door. 'A place where you and I will spend much of our lives.'

'I don't know why I'm bothering to tell you this… but I need to say it anyway.' Harry paused for breath. Tom simply looked at his feet. 'I can't keep talking to you in my dreams, not like this, as thought we're…' Harry hesitated and Tom looked up.

'Friends?' asked Tom in a monotone way.

'No! I couldn't… no! Well…' Harry's speech drained away from him. He couldn't possibly admit that, not even to himself.

'It doesn't matter to me anyway, I never did have any friends,' Tom told him shrugging.

'I'm betraying everyone I love by talking to you… Not only that but I hate you,' Harry said shakily.

'You betray no one by being here. In dreams we have only ourselves to contend with.' Tom glanced over in Harry's direction. 'You don't hate me anyway; you simply hate what I'll become.'

'But you are Voldemort, you've told me before! You know what you'll become because you still are the same person! You're just talking to me in a slightly different form.'

'Not quite true. Indeed I am Voldemort, but only to the extent that your middle toe on your left foot is you.' Tom raised his eyebrows at a confused looking Harry.

'I don't understand Tom!' Harry shouted at the boy, clenching his right fist slightly. Calming himself down, Harry quickly forced the fact that he had clearly called Voldemort 'Tom' to the back of his brain; it was difficult to forgive himself of even the slightest transgressions in these situations.

'Voldemort lacks emotion, soul and even reason at times, you would never be able to really talk to him. I, however, am the part of Voldemort that can still make you understand.'

'But why?' Harry couldn't see the purpose behind these meetings besides his own disgraceful curiosity.

'Harry… even Voldemort dreams.'

'Does he know about our meetings?'

'Of course he does, I am Voldemort, but I believe that he only recognises these meetings on a level that he does not wish to explore. Do you truly believe that Voldemort can do the things he does whilst there still remains the human Tom Riddle inside him in an active role? No. I can only speak to you when Voldemort's guard is lowered and only then because you and I have a connection.'

'You know why I talk to you don't you?' Harry asked quickly.

'I know that you need to tell me to ease your conscience,' Tom told him grinning.

'I've thought about it and as weird as it sounds… you're the only person who understands me,' Harry looked to the sky before hanging his head in shame. It sounded as ridiculous in his head as it did when he said it out loud.

Tom however, tried to get up to come nearer to him, but the chains sent him swiftly back to the cold metal floor. Tom gave his feet a dark look and shook his head at Harry. 'It's not strange at all; of course I understand your problems. I know you like I know myself.'

'I've been made head boy,' Harry suddenly blurted out, staring at his foot.

Tom looked up at him and nodded softly as though he knew that this was inevitable.

'It's not all it's cracked up to be. I thought I'd have everything disclosed to me to quench my curiosity but it seems that the teachers are not as forthcoming as they'd appear to be.'

'Not even Slughorn?' Harry asked angrily.

Tom smiled, his bright eyes contrasting to the dirtiness of his robes and the streaks of mud across his face. 'You mean the horcruxes of course. Everyone is scared of death Harry.'

'Not everyone is willing to kill to near immortalise themselves.'

'Of course. But didn't even a tiny part of you consider making a horcrux when you finally defeat Voldemort and finally allow me to rest?'

Harry didn't answer.


	2. Fugitive

Chapter Two - Fugitive

Hermione paced around her room, trying as hard as she possibly could to block out what she was feeling. She was an eighteen-year old witch and she could be sent to Azkaban. Nothing particularly spectacular had happened. There were no Aurors crashing through the door and damaging the brick work. There were no spells zooming towards her, and no Dementors trying to get at her with their translucent fingers and the intimacy of that final kiss. But terribly, hopelessly, she had done something worthy of all of it.

Hermione held her wand with such ferocity that she could feel the wood start to meld to the creases in her fingers. This was no time to panic, but unfortunately, panicking was the only thing that she seemed able to do.

What had happened to the brightest witch of her age? What happened to 'problem solving Hermione?' Hermione drew her nails down the sides of her arms. Just to be able to think would be nice, just to be able to apply logic and find the answer as usual. Looking towards the window she felt glad that Harry and Ron hadn't written to her this summer. In all honesty, Hermione had resolved not to reply if they had. She didn't want anyone else dragged into the mess that she had created.

It had only been three days since her world as she knew it fell apart and that feeling of failure hadn't yet fallen from her like a discarded old teddy bear. If anything it was smothering her. She was the Golden girl. Her parents idolised her, her teachers thought that she could do no wrong, and she had thrown it all away for what? Hermione put her head in her hands and tried once again to believe that this was all a bad dream.

The creaking at the windowsill bought her back to reality and her eyes opened wide in pure fear. She couldn't win. It was either the Aurors coming to take her away, or the result of the mess she had created. Neither option really made her feel any better. The creaking continued, and a man's hand gripped the side roughly. Hermione stiffened and backed against the other side of the wall. As much as she knew him, had trusted him, she still felt an engulfing pit of fear in her stomach, which acted like a black inky volcano whenever he was around her.

Another hand made its way around the window pane and pulled up a head full of black hair to rest beneath the top side of the window. Snape pulled himself gracefully through the small opening and brushed down the sleeves of his robe as though he didn't have a care in the world. When he declared himself dirt free, he turned to Hermione, his eyes glittering dangerously, and stared into her own reluctant eyes. The burning in her head, she equated to the strong feelings of dislike she still held for the man. But in hindsight, she would realise that there was something more obvious going on as Snape held her eye contact.

He raised an eyebrow as Hermione looked away and mumbled in a voice so low that she could barely hear it. 'You did the right thing Miss Granger.'

Hermione clawed her bitten nails down the wallpaper, leaving behind a slightly chalky trail. Snape watched her from the sides of his eyes but didn't appear to approve or disapprove of her behaviour. As Hermione turned to him, a symphony of emotions splashed over her face like a car crash.

Snape stared at her emotionlessly before perching rather cautiously on the edge of Hermione's bed. The bright art deco pinks and purples of her duvet contrasted entirely with his now tattered, black robes. The picture would have been humorous had Hermione not been in so much turmoil. Flicking an unidentifiable yellow object from where he was sitting, Snape attempted something that he wasn't well versed in, a compassionate speech.

'You know I'm very grateful Miss Granger,' he said swiftly, with the air that perhaps she was the one who should be grateful of his gratitude.

Hermione didn't reply and simply stared wide-eyed at him, lost for words.

'But, I still don't see why this has affected you so much,' Snape started to lose the compassion in his voice. 'You must know that there is a good chance the Aurors will never find out.'

'A good chance?' Hermione questioned bitterly. 'At one point, my life didn't just depend on 'a good chance'.'

'Are you regretting your rather foolhardy decision?' Snape asked.

'How can you call it foolhardy? A minute ago you said I did the right thing!' Hermione was starting to get riled. As much as she was still afraid of Snape and his moods, she felt like she was been spoken to unfairly considering the circumstances.

'It doesn't erase the fact that your self-preservation instincts took a distinct stroll from the vicinity,' Snape said darkly.

Hermione felt like throwing a book at him, preferably something hardback with a few million pages.

'Bravery and stupidity are often one and the same,' Snape mused.

'Look… do you want somewhere to sleep at night or not?' Hermione asked outraged.

'Is that a threat?' Snape asked, his eyes glimmering.

'Yes. You should be thanking me, not trying to antagonise me,' she told him firmly.

'Then perhaps I should curb my speech,' Snape said, somewhat reluctantly. 

'Didn't you want me to help you?' Hermione asked in a small voice.

Snape turned away from the younger witch that looked up at him with wide eyes trying to penetrate his steely glances. He had no reason to be cruel, but, for whatever reason, he knew that he wanted to be. He took the time to compose himself before trying to assume a tone that would not be perceived as threatening.

'I will answer that question when it becomes clear whether you have set other events in motion or simply delayed the inevitable,' Snape said cryptically.

'I know that a trial is out of the question now…' she started.

'For either of us,' Snape told her pessimistically.

Hermione paled and felt a rock type substance filling up her chest cavity. She swallowed to try and drown it, but it stayed there, reminding her of the trouble she was in.

'No.' Snape shook his head thoughtfully. 'We'll be lucky if they even give us a chance to beg for mercy, never mind a trial.'

They fell silent. The room seemed to heave a dramatic sigh as Hermione finally realised just how close she was to death if anyone ever found out what she had done.

'Then you should help me!' Hermione told him.

'I don't see how…'

'Teach me Occlumency!' She shouted excitedly.

'If Occlumency could cure all ills do you think I'd be in this position? You stupid girl!' Snape said angrily.

'Yes!' Hermione shouted exasperated. 'You did kill Dumbledore in front of Harry and then flee in front of the entire school, not to mention the fact that you're a known Dea…'

'Stop!' Snape growled angrily. 'Just stop it.'

Hermione recoiled at his harsh tones and hugged a pillow close to her. Snape sighed and ran his fingers unconsciously through his raven-coloured hair.

'You won't need Occlumency if you simply dispose of the evidence of your… actions.'

Hermione didn't answer.

'A walk, Miss Granger?' Snape asked stiffly.

She nodded, following him down the stairs of her house. She handed Snape a Muggle item of clothing, a hoody, and watched as he distastefully pulled it over his head. He pulled up the hood so that his face remained in shadow as a precaution. Hermione had explained that her 'boyfriend' was staying over for a couple of weeks and her parents had tried not to press her, but their ample curiosity occasionally got the better of them. It was the only way, she thought, that she could explain the extra person hanging around the house. A simple friend wouldn't have cut it. It would have been only a week before her mother was asking whether he had a home to go to. Hermione didn't blame Snape using the bedroom window to enter the house when the constant questions started to grate at him. Hermione just worried that at some point her eagle-eyed mother was going to realise that they had never really seen his face. The last thing she needed was a torrential argument, when her parents realised the obvious age gap between them.

They tried to negotiate the stairs with as little noise as possible, but realised that they were in a set-up just a little too late. As they hurried down the stairs, Mr and Mrs Granger turned to them with scones and biscuits on a plate and declarations about 'just putting the kettle on.'

Hermione panicked and turned to Snape, whom she had never seen look more disgusted in his life. Suddenly, she felt a surprisingly warm hand in hers as he strode purposefully towards the seats opposite the Grangers. She allowed herself to be steered into position and realised that he had not let go of her hand, but instead had allowed their joined hands to rest on his knee. The hoody still made his age less obvious, and for the first time, Hermione wondered whether it would be possible that they would get over this ambush. In fact, she was surprised by how well Snape had thrown himself into character.

Mrs Granger smiled a pearly white smile at Snape and he returned one, but in the manner that he felt his face would crack if he exerted it too much. Hermione noticed this and gave him a slight kick to the ankle. He turned to her with a disapproving glance, but she returned an equally powerful, dark look. After a few seconds of this, the 'couple' turned back to Mrs Granger, who seemed to be looking slightly unhinged by their performance. She addressed her husband in a voice that wobbled.

'Dear… I was just saying how nice it would be to be introduced to Hermione's new friend, wasn't I?'

'Yes love,' he said, stirring the tea.

Hermione took the cue that was presented to her, and swiftly introduced everyone, 'Mum, dad, this is… Steven.' Snape gave her a look that could kill. 'Steven… Connie and Adam.'

'Pleased to meet you,' Snape said as pleasantly as he could manage through gritted teeth.

'So… since we've heard so little about you, maybe you could tell us a bit about yourself?' Hermione's mother leaned forward in the chair so far she seemed almost off balance.

Snape bristled next to her, clearly hating being put on the spot, but sighed gently and fixed Connie Granger with an affectionate glance. 'What would you like to know?'

'How did you two meet? What do you do? How long are you staying here?' It was like a gun blowing Hermione's head off every time. She just hoped that Snape was a good enough liar.

'_Obliviate!'_ Snape shouted, producing his wand.

Mrs Granger snuggled up to the cushions on the sofa and Mr Granger eyed the cups suspiciously as though he had two more than he expected.

'Severus!' Hermione shouted angrily and dragged him out of the room, slamming the front door behind them.

Snape had the misfortune to look amused.

'I thought you were going to play along! Why did I bother preparing everything? Why did you bother?' Hermione was not happy.

'I knew that my way was quicker,' Snape responded simply.

'You can't just walk into peoples homes and erase their memories!' Hermione shouted bitterly.

'You cannot disagree with the fact that it proved quite effective at removing ourselves from that… predicament,' Snape said reasonably.

'Why have I sacrificed my future for you?' Hermione snapped.

'I honestly have no idea Miss Granger.'

She looked at him for a moment, then continued to walk towards the forest near her house, head down. 'Just… please don't do that to my parents again.'

Snape swallowed a snappy retort and simply murmured, 'As you wish.'


	3. A New Death Eater

Chapter Three — A new Death Eater

'You can't do this Ron!' Fred shouted in indignation.

'Yeah, this is the worst idea ever!' George shouted with equal enthusiasm. 

Ron looked at himself in the mirror. He had grown into quite a strapping young man, even towering over the twins who were not slightly built themselves. His face, always pale, had now reduced even further so that he looked quite ghostly. Without the influence from Harry or Hermione, Ron had withdrawn and focussed his attentions on righting all of the wrongs. A little piece of Ron knew that it wasn't just to do with Voldemort tearing people's lives apart, but equally to do with the fact that he had been cast in the role of the sidekick. It was time to change the pace. Ron had promised Harry that he would not interfere in his quest for the Horcruxes, but Ron knew that it was a promise that he would have to break. As much as he was jealous of his friend, he would do anything to ease Harry's pain and the weight of duty. This combination was the one that reinforced his desire to make a pre-emptive strike.

Ron smoothed his dark ginger hair over his ears and frowned at the bags under his eyes. The war needed to be over soon so he could relax a bit more. As the twins watched in horror, he pulled the Death Eater mask over his head, and assessed his appearance. Sure, he looked a bit scary, but in a way, that made a nice change.

'Where did you even get one of those?' George asked.

'It doesn't matter,' Ron told him.

'Don't do this Ron!' a girlish voice shouted from the doorway.

'Ginny! I told you to keep out of my room!' Ron said harshly.

It had been bad enough having the twins use their ridiculous contraptions to hear his whispered conversations and find out his plans, but now Ginny walking in when he didn't expect it? He supposed that Fred and George had told her.

'Oh shut up! That hardly matters compared to what you're getting yourself into!'

'You think I can't handle it?' he challenged angrily.

'I know you can't, you idiot! It's suicide!' she retorted, infuriated with him.

'I'm sick of this stupid war Gin,' he said sighing. 'This may seem stupid… to all of you,' he added as he felt the twins about to comment. 'But I have to try.'

'I'm not losing you and Harry,' Ginny said quietly.

'This might work you know!' Ron shouted.

'Hardly likely,' George added.

'Better chance of killing you,' Fred echoed.

'What makes you think Voldemort could ever believe that Harry Potter's best mate could possibly become a Death Eater?' George asked in disbelief.

'Because I'm scared okay? If he uses Legilimency on me, he'll know that! He'll think that's why I switched sides.'

'I'm going to tell Mum and Dad,' Ginny responded shaking her head and backing out of the room.

'You're too late,' Ron said wearily.

'What?' The other three Weasleys asked at once.

'He already knows about me… You'll just put everyone at risk if you tell Mum and Dad.'

Ron looked at Ginny. The tears starting to run down her cheeks and the drawn, shocked expressions of the twins wasn't making this any easier for him.

'Look, just trust me, okay? Just this once, believe I can do something right.'

Ginny wiped her blotchy face with the back of her hand and nodded at Ron, though she couldn't seem to meet his eyes. Fred and George simply stared at the floor; their posture showed Ron that they were still very angry with him.

Suddenly Ron felt a strange feeling grow from his toes towards his stomach, and instantly found information in his head that wasn't there before. He had the coordinates that Voldemort wanted him to Apparate to imprinted on his brain as though they'd always been there. He supposed that the tingling was growing at the same rate as Voldemort's impatience.

He cursed the timing as he began to wobble and sweat slightly and the other Weasleys looked at him as though he had gone mad. He backed away suddenly and adjusted his Death Eater's mask. The last thing he saw as he Apparated was Fred and George trying to grab him before he vanished and Ginny running towards him.

He arrived in the middle of a small circle of Death Eaters and either knelt under his own volition or was quietly attacked with the Imperius Curse. Either way, he found himself with his nose practically touching the ground.

He felt invisible strings disappear, and in a show of courage, tilted his chin up slightly so that he could at least appear to be in control. He shuddered involuntarily at the contorted face that looked at him with interest. Voldemort seemed to laugh softly and Ron dipped his head again, not wanting to invoke the Dark Lord's wrath before it was necessary.

'It seems that we have a guest,' Voldemort chucked. 'My loyal followers,' he continued. I don't want to spoil the surprise by revealing who exactly kneels before me; so instead, we must proceed with his initiation!'

'Subject, you may rise,' Voldemort said curtly.

Ron got to his feet and felt a surge of adrenaline course through his body. For some reason, he didn't feel any fear. He supposed that this was because he could never have imagined being in this situation before and his body had no idea how to respond. For the first time in his life, he felt prepared for whatever painful thing his 'initiation' would involve.

Voldemort suddenly pointed a long talon at another Death Eater in the group and stated authoritatively, 'Come forward.'

The Death Eater did so, purposefully and slowly and uttered, 'My Lord?' 

'Surely you know by now what I wish for you to do. I think our apprentice requires a lesson in submission,' Voldemort grinned, his slack mouth stretching over the rest of his face grotesquely.

The Death Eater stood directly in front of Ron's face and awaited the commands of Lord Voldemort.

'Unmask,' Voldemort commanded him.

The death eater nodded slightly and pulled the mask off his head in a swift movement with his left hand. Throwing it to the ground, the man shook his head backwards, the black hair falling from his face. Ron found himself face to face with Severus Snape. Snape scowled and sniffed as though it was beneath him to be conducting such initiations. Ron knew exactly why it was Snape that he would be facing. Would he allow himself to let the man who had killed Dumbledore dominate him? Would he be able to stop himself from killing him right now? If he struck Snape, he knew he was as good as dead.

'If you submit…' Voldemort hissed. 'Get to your knees.'

Staring at Snape's unknowing eyes, Ron realised that it would be easier knowing that Snape had no idea who he was. He forced himself to his knees and bowed his head low in front of one of the people whom he hated most in the world.

Snape raised his chin and assessed Ron with a look of hatred before lowering his eyes to Ron's own and softly stating, 'Crucio.'

Even with the softness in Snape's voice the pain that accompanied it could not be described as soft. It wasn't the sharp pains that Ron imagined came from Bellatrix's wand, having seen people suffering under the curse. But this was an agony that took away all thought and burned right from his very core. Slowly, he felt invisible strands of intense hurt burst through the walls of his body and involuntarily made a grasping movement with his arms, as though to pile all of his internal organs back into his physical form. The vibrations simply sent him down a flowing river of pain and the rippling waves of agony that coursed throughout his body had him quickly wishing for death, wishing for anything that would ease the pain.

Suddenly, he found that the pain had disappeared only to be replaced by a sense of doom and terror. He looked up at Snape, his eyes wide open, and Snape simply looked back, unfeelingly, lowering his wand. Quickly, Ron lowered his head into an even lower bow to show that he was submitting as much as his body would allow. His hands shook, but his expression remained steely beneath his mask. Snape would not beat him.

'Will you submit to him doing it again?' Voldemort asked softly.

'Yes, my Lord!' Ron almost shouted through gritted teeth.

Voldemort smiled, but the light didn't reach his eyes, and gave the nod to Snape, who turned to Ron, raising his eyebrow. When Ron didn't look up, he bared his teeth and shouted 'CRUCIO!'

This time, there were no waves, no sea of pain. This time, Ron felt as though his entire body was in a vice. Everything was constricted, it felt like he was being squashed and pounded into nothingness. Pain echoed into pain and blackness began to swim over blackness. He could literally feel his breathing beginning to stop, as if trying to save him from the torture. As he danced with agony, Ron felt his heart slow and the equilibrium between him and his pain began to sway. Soon it felt as if he was being lifted, lifted away from the scene. With every feeling of constriction, he began to feel freer… and the sky began to grow lighter… and everything began to…

'Stop!' Voldemort commanded.

Snape lowered his wand automatically and Ron didn't move or realise for a full minute whether the torture had stopped or whether it was still going on. Some barrier had been broken this time and Voldemort knew that he was ready.

'Stand, servant of Lord Voldemort,' Snape intonated deeply. Ron caught a slight suspicion in his voice. He knew there was a reason that he had been the one to carry out the torture.

Ron shakily got to his feet, amazed that his limbs were still there and still responded to his neurological commands.

'Reveal your…' Snape began, but Voldemort waved him into silence.

'I think that you should remove his hood for yourself, Severus,' Voldemort told him evilly.

Snape looked unhinged for a second, as though genuinely worried about what he would find under the hood. He sniffed slightly and strode meticulously towards Ron before grabbing his hood and tearing it off his head in one grasp.

Snape paled and his eyes flashed angrily when he saw the slightly battered-looking Weasley standing in front of him. Ron simply tried to look through him, but found himself meeting his eyes with equal anger. Snape breathed deeply and looked around at the other Death Eaters who were equally as shocked. Some were even caught so off guard that they gasped audibly or made other involuntary noises.

Suddenly Snape grasped Ron by the chin, who stiffened fearfully. Looking him over with hate in his eyes, Snape threw him down roughly. Ron fell hard to the ground, his legs splayed out behind him.

Voldemort advanced on Snape quicker than he appeared to and pulled his wand on him, pointing it directly at his throat. Snape simply glared back, not showing any weakness. Ron watched as Voldemort grunted, clearly trying to achieve something, while Snape flexed his hands. Snape's legs started to shake and he growled and tried to smooth them out with his hands. Voldemort however continued what Ron supposed was the Imperius Curse and Snape finally fell to his knees. It was another twenty seconds before he bent his head at the feet of Voldemort.

Voldemort walked closer to him and swiftly kicked him in the face, causing him to fall to the side. Snape groaned as blood flowed freely from his nose but got back to his feet, wiping his face with the back of his hand, keeping his head down now as Voldemort looked at him.

'Temper, Severus,' Voldemort hissed softly. 'I remember that we nearly had to kill you at your own initiation. Your student learns a lot quicker than you do it seems. But resisting the Imperius Curse from me? I expected better. You're lucky I don't kill you now.'

Snape looked Voldemort in the eyes and then dropped to his knees and bowed low at the feet of his Lord.

'Excellent, as long as you continue to learn, I will continue to teach you,' Voldemort told him almost affectionately.

Snape arose and again wiped the blood from his broken nose. Voldemort smiled at him gravely and addressed him once more. 'Severus, if I see you mending that nose using magic, this time I will kill you. Let that be a reminder to you the next time you choose to resist me.'

Ron, who had been watching this display open-mouthed, suddenly found Voldemort's attention resting on him once again. He quickly found himself in another bow at the feet of his new Lord.

'Left arm, Weasley,' Voldemort commanded.


	4. Plans

Chapter Four — Plans

Harry groaned and reached into the bin in his room. Making a face at a sticky blue substance that engulfed his hand; he delved further into the depths of rubbish and pulled out his letter from Hogwarts. Even though he knew it off by heart, he read it again. Adjusting his glasses, he began to pace around the room before smoothing out the letter and reading it for a last time. Gathering that he would no longer divulge any more information from it, he threw the paper into the corner of the room and picked up the phone.

Tom's voice echoed in his ears, 'you should go back. Wherever I went, Hogwarts was my home and I would hazard a guess that it's yours too. You can still look for whatever you seek there.'

Ignoring the fact that he was now trusting Tom's judgement over his own, he wearily dialed Hermione's number into the phone.

The click at the other end heralded a faint 'hello' from his best friend.

'Hermione,' he sighed.

'Harry? Are you okay?' She sounded tired, preoccupied.

There was no sense beating around the bush, he had to air what he was feeling. 'Do you think I should go back to Hogwarts this year?'

There was a pause at the other end of the phone and Harry definitely thought he heard Hermione shushing someone. 'Hello?' he ventured. 

'Yes. Sorry Harry. Just a bit of a problem at my end… I really wholeheartedly think you should.'

'Why?' He needed reassurance.

'Because you can still do everything you want to even if you are at school. You won't be endangering anyone; you'll just have to… I don't know; maybe distance yourself a bit from certain things.'

Knowing that she meant Ginny, Harry involuntarily grinned ironically.

'Besides Harry, I want you to be there and I know that Ron does too.'

'Have you heard from him?'

He could almost visualise Hermione shaking her head and biting her bottom lip. 'No… but then again, neither of us has been in contact.'

'What's been going on with you anyway?' Harry asked inquisitively.

'Nothing,' Hermione said a little too quickly.

'We'll talk soon,' Harry promised, knowing that Hermione was deliberately withholding something.

'Oh and Harry… there's something else I needed to tell you,' she paused. Something in the pause made Harry's body tense. 'Professor McGonagall told me that Draco's coming back.'

'No!' Harry shouted disbelievingly.

It had been all over the news recently that Draco Malfoy had turned himself in to Aurors after managing to escape from Severus Snape. Harry couldn't help but feel stunned that he had not only managed to get out of doing any time in Azkaban, but that he was returning to the place where he contributed to the death of the Headmaster.

Hermione swallowed at the end of the phone. 'He'll be protected by an Auror but it's been decided that Hogwarts is the best place for him. McGonagall's worried that his peers will launch an attack on him, after all, some of their fathers are death eaters and Voldemort does not deal kindly with traitors. He'll have to be resorted.'

Harry felt the weight of his head collapse onto the phone and he groaned convulsively. 'He may still end up in Slytherin though,' he said hopefully.

Hermione paused. 'I think McGonagall's been talking to the Sorting Hat, it seems unlikely.'

'I can't just act as though nothing happened!' Harry snapped.

'I don't think anyone would expect you to. The best thing would be to ignore him completely.'

'This doesn't make me want to come back Hermione,' Harry said bitterly. 

'I know. But before you called me, you already knew you would. I'm just preparing you.'

'Thanks… and I'll see you tomorrow then,' Harry paused. There were things left unsaid and one really big lump in his throat wanted to say something a little more intimate to Hermione but his brain stopped him showing any closeness. 'Bye… Hermione,' he said sadly.

'Goodbye Harry… I can't wait to see you.'

He put the phone down.

She put the phone down.

'Why tell him about Draco?' Snape asked.

'Just a warning,' she said plaiting her hair absentmindedly.

'He didn't even ask how you knew so much,' Snape mused.

'If you're trying to infer that he's an idiot, then don't bother I already know what you think.' Hermione leaned her hot head against the wall. She ached all over. She had been snapping more at Snape recently and put her strange behaviour down to the feeling of dread when she knew Snape would bring up something she didn't want to do. Ultimately, he held total power over her.

Inevitably, he decided it was the right time.

'We have a job to do Hermione,' Snape said quietly. Hermione didn't even care that he had used her first name. She knew it was just to try and motivate her to accomplish her unhappy task.

Hermione nodded and opened the ceiling high wardrobe in her room. She subconsciously cast a floating charm wordlessly and levitated the body out onto her bed. Snape was impressed but decided it was the wrong time to comment on her use of non-verbal spells.

The two of them looked down at Mad-Eye Moody, Snape eying him with dislike, Hermione looking at him with a mixture of guilt and fear. He was fine, except for the excessive amounts of sleeping potion that Snape had been plugging through his system until they decided what to do with him.

It had all been so easy until Hermione discovered that things no longer added up in her head. She had desperately needed answers. It was a stroke of luck that led her to Snape and Draco, but what she didn't understand was why Snape had not realised that she was tailing them. Somehow she knew that he was fully aware that she was following him, but was inexplicably not doing anything about it. The moment of total comprehension that led to her stunning an Auror continued to play on her mind all the time. She still couldn't believe that she was capable of such impulsive behaviour.

She couldn't wipe clean the half fearful and half disgusted looks on the faces of Snape and Draco. Deep in her soul, there was still that sinking feeling that Snape had still not forgiven her for interfering in his capture.

'Go and stand somewhere he can't see you,' Hermione told Snape looking away from the man in front of her. Snape did as she said and swept wordlessly behind the bookcase. Usually, this obvious hiding place would never have worked on an Auror of the calibre of Moody, but then he had been asleep for a long time.

_'Ennervate!'_ Hermione yelled, wand pointed at Moody. Before he could fully revive she said quickly, _'Obliviate!'_ Moody's eyes both rolled back into their sockets and he fell to the floor again. After picking himself up Mad-Eye looked around, his eye spinning precariously in its socket. Suddenly, both eyes found their target of Hermione and Mad eye stood up.

'Death Eater!' he yelled with venom and sent a stunner straight at Hermione. It hit its mark and Hermione flopped lifelessly onto the sheepskin rug in her room. Snape quickly stunned Moody before his all seeing eye found its next focus.

Sweeping out from behind his hiding place Snape picked up Hermione gently and murmured, _'Ennervate.'_

She revived and threw her hands over her head as if she was under further attack. Snape lightly batted her across the cheek with his fingers and made her eyes adjust to his face.

'It seems that he is still under the assumption that you have allowed me to escape and also kept him incarcerated for the best part of two weeks.'

Hermione rose shakily to her feet from out of Snape's arms and motioned that he go back to his position. It would be so much easier if he could be the one to cast the charms, but unfortunately, Moody's memory would have to go back a whole lot further to believe that Snape had nothing to do with his predicament. They both decided that it was best if Snape simply taught Hermione the charm for herself.

_'Ennervate!'_ she yelled again. This time she followed it quickly with, _'Obliviate!'_

The dazed look again swept itself over Moody's facial features. This time he looked around meaninglessly for as much as two minutes. Shaking his head roughly, he began to gain comprehension and made eye contact with Hermione. Tracing his eyes rapidly over her he began to yell, _'CRUC…'_

Suddenly, he fell to the floor again, immobilised by Snape.

'I don't think he's quite ready to be released, Miss Granger,' Snape said snidely.

'I know!' she yelled in frustration.

'If you had done this at the beginning, not only would there be no search party looking for him, but it would also be a lot easier to change his memories,' Snape preached.

'Just… Just get back behind the bookcase okay?' she pleaded.

Hermione stood strong and purposeful; she was not going to be defied this time. He was not going to catch her. She was not going to Azkaban for helping a bitter resentful, sometimes downright nasty man.

_'Ennervate!'_ she shouted. _'Obliviate! Obliviate! OBLIVIATE!'_ she yelled with purpose, her voice increasing in volume with each repetition.

Moody stumbled towards her and his eyes looked up as if for guidance. She told him firmly without being able to look at him, 'You've been in your house these last two weeks. You're not sure what happened, but you think Death Eaters are to blame. You were heading to the Ministry to report this.' She carefully guided him down the stairs in her house and let him out the front door.

From Hermione's room, she and Snape watched as Moody walked away mutinously, heading for the Ministry building.

'You know it's probably a matter of time before someone breaks that charm,' Snape told her firmly.

'I plan to resolve that problem later.'

Snape nodded and sat down on the edge of her bed surveying the room for reading material.

'Will you be okay when I go back to Hogwarts?'

'I'm sure a life as an apprentice dentist will be equally as fulfilling as what I had planned for myself,' he said bitterly.

'I hope you read enough to convince my father that you actually know what you're doing,' she said nervously.

'Miss Granger, I am more worried about whether I can keep my mouth shut about how dull this occupation is going to be.'

Hermione blushed, annoyed. 'At least no one would ever think about looking for you here.'

'Indeed. Most would believe that I would rather drown myself.'

She bit her tongue to stop her mouth from saying anything stupid. 'Any words of wisdom before I start school?'

'Just a few. Watch Mr Weasley carefully.'

'Why?' She asked startled.

'He is obviously out of character if he has contacted neither yourself nor Potter. I would simply suggest that you try and get to the bottom of whatever he is trying to do.'

'You know something!' she said wide-eyed.

'I know many things Miss Granger, none of which concern you.'

'Just like you won't tell me how you got that bloody nose. I don't see why you don't just mend it yourse…' Hermione was cut off with a vindictive glance from Snape. He stared at her for a second before walking straight past her and pulling the covers back on her bed.

Rudely, Snape sat down and pulled the covers over him, resting his back on the headboard and opening a book about gum disease. Hermione picked up a book of her own and disgruntled, settled down on the floor wondering what Ron was doing.

Ron was in agony in his room. He had told no one about the exact happenings in the meeting but his arm was in a constant throbbing mess of pain. He lay back on his bed and tried to picture something happier. Memories of Harry and Hermione came back to him, and long days spent with his family in Egypt. Anything that could take his mind of the pain was very welcome.

When he opened his eyes he found Ginny staring at him. As he started to say something she shushed his words away.

'I haven't come to preach,' she said shakily. 'I just didn't want you to get hurt.'

Ron stiffened as her fingers came near his left arm and protectively raised his right so that she couldn't get near it. She prised his fingers away and gathered his left, limp arm in her small hands. She moved it away from him and Ron closed his eyes, wondering what she was doing. Suddenly he felt something wet on the arm and instinctively went to move it, but Ginny held onto his hand firmly. Using a small sponge, she rinsed clear liquid over the entire arm, focussing mainly on the forearm where the Dark Mark gleamed ominously.

Ron felt his entire body relaxing as she gently massaged the sponge over his tired muscles, starting at the tips of his fingers and ending near his shoulder. Just for a few minutes, the weight of Voldemort dropped from him and all he could feel was the soothing balm of his sister's hands.

The liquid was wiped away by a fluffy towel and he heard Ginny bite something and then felt her small deft hands wrapping something around his arm. Looking down, he saw that she was bandaging the entire area where the Ddark Mark lay and miraculously it relieved him of most of the pain. As much as he hated to admit it, his sister was brilliant. Finishing the bandage with medical tape, she stood back and admired her handiwork.

'Gin… that was bloody amazing,' Ron said in awe.

She laughed softly. 'When you boys wouldn't let me play Quidditch, all I had to do was watch mum dress your wounds. You learn things.' 

'Sorry I worry you,' Ron said sheepishly.

Ginny nodded and wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye. 'I know you are, but you have to try I suppose. Just don't get hurt, okay?' 

'With you here to patch me up? No way!' Ron grinned.

Ginny smiled. 'You always come to me, okay?'

'I will Gin, I promise.'


	5. Everything in its Right Place

Chapter Five – Everything in its Right Place

The Hogwarts Express pulled up as Harry hurried to meet it, armed with a   
huge trunk and Hedwig swinging precariously from his side. His last year at  
Hogwarts had well and truly begun. Spying Hermione in the crowds of smiles  
and chattering wizards and witches he bounded towards her, his trunk  
smashing occasionally against his legs.

He stopped slightly. She looked a lot more drawn than he was used to. Her  
opinion of him was obviously somewhere in the same region by the look on her  
face.

'Harry…' she said quickly. 'Are you okay?'

'I could say the same to you. You look terrible.'

'Thanks,' she said slightly agitated. 'That's exactly what a woman wants to   
hear.'

'Hey,' another voice said softly behind them. Ron slowly walked towards   
them, Ginny at his heels.

Hermione launched herself at him and then stood back to assess his features.   
His eyes had bags under them as if he hadn't slept for days and his left arm  
was obviously bandaged.

'What happened to you?' she asked shocked.

'Stupid git thought it would be fun to attempt a huge loop the loop in the   
confines of our garden,' Ginny rolled her eyes at Hermione. 'Needless to  
say, it didn't go quite the way he expected.'

'But the bandages?' Hermione asked suspiciously.

'Mum said they would help with the Muggle infection,' Ginny said swiftly.

Harry and Ginny had so far refused to look at each other, but she flashed   
him a quick smile to indicate her thoughts on Ron's stupidity and Harry had  
the good grace to grin back slightly.

'So what do you have to say for yourself?' Hermione asked, giving Ginny a  
strange look before focussing her attentions on Ron.

'Boys will be boys?' He shrugged grinning at her.

Hermione laughed, her pointy little teeth reflecting the light. Snape's   
words had put her slightly more on her guard than she would usually be.

She hugged Ron again, being careful not to go near his bandaged arm, for   
which he was very grateful. He was certain that it emitted heat or otherwise  
blared out 'I have a Dark Mark!'

Ron dutifully removed Hermione's bag from her hands, sweeping away her   
protests by rolling his eyes at her and climbed onto the train after Harry  
and Ginny. Finding a compartment, they fell to their seats in an exhausted  
fashion. Harry however, reluctantly moved his weight from one foot to the  
other and didn't sit.

Ron looked at him with a question in his eyes and Harry simply replied, 'I'm  
Head Boy, I gotta go and do Head Boy things.'

Ron grinned happily and Hermione practically wet herself. Ginny however,   
looked away and didn't say anything. Harry shrugged and moved towards the  
front compartment.

'I knew he would be!' Hermione stated triumphantly. 'I wonder who they made  
Head Girl…'

'You mean it's not you?' Ron asked in surprise.

'They can't have two Gryffindors as Head Boy and Girl, it would be complete  
favouritism. Head Girl would have to be from one of the other houses.'

Just then, Harry popped his head through the window, panting slightly as if  
he had run back with distinct speed. 'Head Girl is Susan Bones,' he told  
them. Then he gave them a mock salute, grinned and jogged off.

Hermione nodded appreciatively, 'Do you know… I really expected a   
Slytherin.'

'I hope you didn't want one,' Ron told her.

'Of course not! And now that she's finishing splinching herself in   
Apparition, I think she's a good choice.'

Suddenly, the door swung open again and instead of the expected face of  
Harry, Ron and Hermione stiffened slightly as Draco Malfoy stood in the   
doorway.

'McGonagall has pretty much ordered me to sit here.' He scowled and looked  
at the floor.

'No bloody way! We don't let murderers in our…' Ron was quickly cut off by  
Hermione.

'Shut up Ron. If McGonagall is making him, he has to sit here. You want to   
get on the wrong side of the new Headmistress already?'

'Besides, I'm not a murderer,' Draco said shakily sitting down next to   
Hermione.

Ron sent nasty looks at Draco who turned away to the window, appearing to   
carefully assess the background.

'Oh for goodness sake,' Hermione said exasperated. 'I'm not going to sit  
here whilst you two make it so uncomfortable. No one can change what has  
happened and I know that I can never understand what kind of pressure you  
were under with a Death Eater for a father,' she said hoping that Malfoy  
would accept her olive branch.

'I don't need your defence,' he said quietly.

'You may as well help us understand what you did.' Hermione was desperately  
trying to clear the air. Draco smiled evilly at her; he had forgotten for a  
minute that she knew a lot more than Ron did. It was with enjoyment that he  
remembered he definitely had a hold on Hermione if he ever needed it. The  
Ministry would be very interested to hear that she had allowed Snape to  
escape.

Draco stiffened as he felt Ron's eyes burning into him. 'There's nothing to  
understand!' Draco shouted angrily, his temper overshadowing his thoughts of  
glorious revenge on the Mudblood. 'The Dark Lord told me I could either die like  
my father was going to or go on a mission for him.'

'Then you should have died, or let Dumbledore help you,' Ron said quietly.

'Easy for you to say. It wasn't your neck on the line and it wasn't your  
family that would be killed if you didn't do what he said.' Draco clenched  
his fists. 'It was easier… yes easier, to just pretend that I was the person  
that could betray everyone. Could you let your family die, Weasel, for the  
life of one person?'

'Yes!' Ron said. 'I mean no… I mean…'

'Not so black and white is it?' Draco finished bitterly before turning to  
whatever was so riveting out of the window. He considered something and  
added briefly, 'I have to go through these questions with everyone I talk  
to, everyone I knew. If you take anything from this… Just know that this is  
killing me, okay? You got what you wanted.'

'I'm glad you feel bad,' Ron said seriously with darkness in his gaze.

Draco looked at him with emptiness in his eyes, 'Sometimes I doubt that the  
houses are anything but names.'

'What do you mean by that?' Ron asked sharply.

'It's a Death Eater quality to enjoy the misery of others.' As he saw Ron   
start to open his mouth he talked over him, 'don't say anything, just think.  
Death Eaters hold beliefs too you know, they aren't just mindless robots.  
They enjoy misery when they believe that they are righting wrongs or  
injustices, just like what you're doing now. The difference between  
Slytherin and Gryffindor is simply appearances, and appearances are not   
everything… not even close.'

Draco gave Ron a scathing look and roughly opened the door of the   
compartment, striding out. 'And as much as I want to be trusted again.' With  
this he rolled his eyes. 'Some orders are worth disobeying.'

Watching Draco's feet stomp away, Hermione turned to Ron bitterly. 'You   
could have made a bit more of an effort.'

'It's not my fault!'

Ron and Hermione spent the rest of the journey exchanging glaring looks at  
each other. As the tension was growing unbearable, the train finally pulled  
up to Hogwarts.

It looked as wondrous as ever, but the feeling was slightly different this  
year. There would be no Dumbledore to greet them at the start of term feast  
and no Snape to glower from his perch at the end of the table. Two of the  
most influential teachers were gone and no one knew just what to expect  
anymore. Hagrid collected the first years as usual, yet Harry noticed with a  
sinking feeling that there was a sadness in his eyes and a limp in his step.  
He had never thought of Hagrid as old, but grey was beginning to tinge his  
beard and hair.

Entering the Great Hall, Harry, Hermione and Ron kept  
their heads down and found their places without a sound or an upward  
glance. Everything was so instantly recognisable and so irritatingly normal.   
But Hogwarts was different, and the sooner they came to accept that, the  
better.

The first years lined up as usual and the smiling face of McGonagall   
attempted to welcome them as warmly as possible. They trotted nervously into  
the hall as though they expected to be under attack any minute. The Sorting  
Hat looked as tattered as ever and Harry could swear that the stitches  
appeared different, giving it a sort of sad look. When the fear of the first  
years finally came to a climax in fidgeting and shuffling, the Sorting Hat  
began to sing:

'Now I'm not entirely certain  
when I first started this task.  
Of splitting up the first years,  
seeing the soul behind the mask.  
This year I shall not bore you  
with tales of bravery and heart.  
But simply ask the question;  
is this the time to be apart?  
I beg you please don't hold me  
in a view of truth and power.  
I've been wrong before, dear first years,  
this sorting could turn sour.  
Two choices were the opposite  
of what I should have made.  
I get to put one right today,  
but can the other still be saved?  
Like Voldemort, this old brown hat  
has been swayed by what doesn't matter.  
Corrupted by your wizard views;  
blood and family should not factor.  
So I ask you, my friend, to take  
your sorting with a pinch of salt.  
And I'll just look forward to the day  
when they finally call a halt.'

'Let the Sorting begin,' it said drearily.

'Doesn't seem so sure of itself this year,' Ron said.

'Who's the hat talking about; two choices it made that were wrong?' Harry   
asked puzzled. Hermione continued to stare at the hat, trying to somehow  
glean more information from it.

'I dunno. I just can't believe it talked so openly about the Dark Lord,' Ron  
said without thinking.

'Since when do you call him 'the Dark Lord?' Harry asked incredulously.

Ron shrugged quickly and tried to direct Harry's attention towards a new  
broom advertised in the Prophet. Harry was quickly engrossed in a quiet and  
excited discussion about its capabilities, but Hermione studied Ron with a  
mixture of worry and dread. She was not so quick to forget the implications  
of his turn of phrase.

The first years took turns at sitting on the stool and the Sorting Hat   
appeared to be having genuine difficulties at deciding which house to put  
people in. When finally 'Collins, Georgia' had still not been placed in a  
house after twenty minutes of wearing the hat, McGonagall had a quiet word  
with it. The hat, being a hat, didn't really look any different from her  
words but appeared to be finally deciding. Ron picked his head up off the   
table and Harry blinked his eyes back into focus. The Sorting Hat leaned  
back slightly, as everyone leaned forwards. Its mouth opened and everyone's  
eyes were suddenly on it.

'I have no idea,' it announced authoritatively. 'Join whichever table you  
like.'

Georgia seemed to be in agony as the entire school hall focussed its eyes   
entirely on her and her decision. She turned to McGonagall in fear and the  
Headmistress pursed her lips and walked calmly towards her.

'Do you have any brothers and sisters here?' she asked discreetly. Georgia  
nodded.

'Then I suggest you go and sit with them,' McGonagall said kindly.

Georgia walked off, ignoring the glares from the other houses as she sat   
down with her siblings at the Ravenclaw table.

As the hat continued to sort in a laboured fashion, Ron charmed a paper   
aeroplane to fly repeatedly into Hermione's head to her distinct annoyance.  
Harry yawned and fell into a daydream involving both Quidditch and Ginny  
Weasley in a slightly unconventional combination. As the hat took another  
excruciatingly dull fifteen minutes to sort the last person into the notably  
bland Hufflepuff house, everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the Sorting   
was over.

As soon as people began to stir, however, the noise of sharp quick footsteps  
sent everyone's attention to the entrance doors to the hall. Draco Malfoy  
strode purposefully towards the Sorting Hat, keeping his head down and  
ignoring several shouts that were along the lines of accusing him of murder  
and threatening to disembowel him. Without even a glance to the people  
around him, he took a seat at the stool and put the Sorting Hat squarely  
onto his gleaming blond head.

Strangely, this time, the hat's evaluation rang clear through the hall rather   
than being a personal summary only disclosed to the person themselves.

'I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to let the others hear this one. It  
is, of course, the first time I've ever resorted a student. Anyway, down to  
business.

'Humility is definitely different, seems to have replaced arrogance in a huge   
capacity. Guilt remains the same, just placed differently. There is sadness,  
oh yes, that clouds a lot of your more… personable characteristics, but it's  
important that you learn from your mistakes.

'Talent is as I expected, but knowledge seems to have grown with age beyond   
your natural capacities. Darkness is still there but redirected. Anger has  
greater emphasis than I would advise. Doubt overshadows a lot of what I  
missed before, and hatred still blooms clear throughout your mind. There is  
definitely bravery, oh yes, a lot more than you would like to admit to and a  
need to put things right. Fear makes a thin film over everything and you'll  
never lose the paranoia in the back of your mind; circumstantial I'm afraid.

'I'm sorry Draco; I failed you the first time round. If I would have looked  
beyond your parentage, blood and how you've been bought up to feel I would  
have given you an unexpected, yet accurate sorting. Your actions last year  
showed that you would rather face death than protect yourself when you  
believe in something. It can only, and has always been…

'GRYFFINDOR!'


	6. Temptation

Chapter Six - Temptation

Since Draco had emotionlessly walked straight back out of the hall, McGonagall had been having distinct trouble at calming everyone down again. As a silence finally fell over the hall, she began to speak in slight, yet powerful tones.

'I wish to introduce you now to the new members of staff this year. Without further ado, the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher will be Professor Percival Weasley.'

Ron seemed to choke on his own tongue as Percy flounced towards the head table in a dignified manner. His eyes searched out Ginny opposite him, who looked equally dumbfounded. 

'Do you think Mum or Dad…' she started, the question fading in her disbelief.

'Bloody hell!' Ron said open-mouthed.

Harry and Hermione turned to each other and grinned sadly. They had no idea what had persuaded Percy to change his mind about Hogwarts, but becoming a teacher would possibly bridge the gulf between him and the rest of the Weasley family. 

Percy sat down. It seemed that he was deliberately trying not to meet the eyes of his younger siblings.

'Professor Weasley will also be heading Gryffindor House. I, as Headmistress, unfortunately cannot have that distinct pleasure anymore. I thank you, though, Gryffindors, for the many years of happiness I had as your Head of House.'

Ron groaned and put his head in his hands. Ginny followed suit, just as dramatically. Even Harry, who was no relative to Percy, felt distinctly like sighing loudly. Hermione simply frowned, tapping a pen absent-mindedly on the table. Her eyes swept over the subdued mass of Slytherins; there would be no message for them from their Head of House.

'As for the vacancy in Transfiguration, the new Transfiguration teacher will be Professor Jaime Orpheus. He will also be replacing- will be taking over as Head of Slytherin house.'

As everyone else turned around to see Jaime Orpheus, Hermione watched as McGonagall gave Slughorn a significant glance. He shrugged in apology and turned away.

Jaime walked slowly towards the head table with an exaggerated, bored look on his face, and his hands in the pockets of his Muggle jeans. Harry could literally feel Hermione bristling beside him.

'It doesn't mean he can't teach you know,' Harry whispered.

Hermione stopped clapping. 'I didn't say anything!'

'You were thinking it.' 

Jaime looked around the hoards of children staring at him and grinned mischievously. Then he turned slowly on the spot, his black hair shaking into his face, and gave a mock salute to everyone. Most people stopped clapping, stunned, unsure entirely how to respond.

'That will do, thank you, Jaime,' Professor McGonagall snapped at him.

Jaime shrugged and waved at the staring tables before jogging smoothly to take his place at the Head Table.

'You think McGonagall actually chose him?' Ron asked disbelievingly.

'My gran knows him!' Neville suddenly piped up a few seats away from him. 'He did some community service in St Mungo's.'

'For what?' Hermione asked sharply.

'I dunno. Snape got him off lightly though, apparently.'

'Snape?' Harry asked scathingly.

'He was in Slytherin at school.' Neville shrugged.

Hermione finally imploded. 'I just know he's going to be an awful teacher and this is our most important year! I can't believe McGonagall is doing this to me!'

'Calm down, I'm sure he's really strict in the classroom,' Ron said reassuringly.

'You really think so?'

'Definitely! He'll set loads of extra work and deal out detentions like anything!'

'Thanks,' Hermione said in a little voice.

As everyone trooped back to their dormitories, Harry felt a prickling in his scar. He grabbed his head automatically, as this usually signified the start of a terrible headache. He wondered why this was happening now; his scar hadn't bothered him for ages. Instead of a headache however, the prickling drew itself out across his forehead and flowed lightly across his brow. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realised that it felt uncannily like someone lovingly stroking his head.

The hand moved on its feather light journey through the bumpy texture of his scalp, a warm breeze of substance filtering over his skin. Harry stiffened as the hand gently cupped the back of his neck, kneading his twisted muscles and communicating gentleness and love.

He turned around quickly, as though it would erase the hand on his head, but instead the feeling intensified. Now someone was deliberately ruffling a hand through his hair and trying to calm him from his panic. He moved backwards and tripped over a pair of trainers, landing down the side of Seamus' bed. It was now that he realised his entire dorm was looking at him as though he'd gone mad. 

'Harry?' Ron asked fearfully.

'I'm fine!' Harry insisted, angered by the stupid hand in his hair. He leapt to his feet and slapped himself in the face to try to get the ghostly touch to leave him.

'What're you doing?' Seamus asked, moving towards him hesitantly.

Harry grabbed his head in both of his hands and ran his own hands through his hair to try to erase the feeling of sickness flooding through his being. He ignored more cries that threatened to take him to the hospital wing and flopped down on his bed. Finally, the hands left him.

'What happened?' Ron asked; possibly the third time he had shouted that particular question.

'I don't know. Go back to sleep,' Harry closed his eyes, groaning, trying to force Ron out.

'I wasn't asleep… whatever mate, tell me when you're ready.'

Harry wished Ron wasn't so self-sacrificing. He really thought that in Ron's shoes, he would have shown a lot more concern. Anger trickled through his veins, heating up his blood, and he clenched his hands as his redheaded friend sat leisurely down on the bed next to his. He couldn't really attribute his sudden anger to anything except how violated he felt. For whatever reason, he felt really annoyed with Ron.

Ignoring the rest of his dorm, Harry changed into his night things and brushed his teeth before climbing into bed. Trying to clear his mind so that he didn't sleep in bursts was impossible, as he still felt so angry at nothing. Falling into a fitful sleep, Harry had the distinct feeling communicated to him that Ron was hiding something.

Harry felt his heart skip slightly and his eyes blinked open. A wave of light washed over him, and he found himself standing in the middle of a field. Apart from the perfect circle that he was standing in, the rest of the grass was covered in the most wondrous yellow flowers. Like a virus, he considered, yet a good one.

He tilted his head up to the sky and felt a nipping breeze caressing his face, not dissimilar to the hand in his waking moments. He didn't feel panicky; he stretched and revelled in it. Bringing his eyes back down from where they were captured in the beautiful cloudless sky, he felt a blurring movement from the outwards of his vision and spreading throughout the entirety of his eyes. Confused, Harry took off his glasses and found that they were the reason for his poor sight. Not only was his vision perfect, but the colours looked even more vivid than before, as though his glasses had been holding him back for years.

Harry dropped them onto the floor, a determined smirk on his face and rammed the heel of his foot into them. He felt an image of Dumbledore flicker across his brain, but it didn't really register consciously.

Looking around the field, he didn't spot any insects, for which he was grateful. The worst thing about flowers was the pollen gatherers that went hand in hand with them. Harry grinned and began to walk carefully though the grass, not wanting to ruin the perfect isolation around him. To his distaste, he stepped on a flower. But as he mentally kicked himself and moved on more carefully, it snapped back to its original position as soon as his foot left it. Harry smiled and playfully began to run mindlessly. 

He danced with nature, a dance of colour and light, a dance that he wished would go on for a lifetime. The feeling inside him was something that he had never felt. He felt free. His feet floated slightly above the ground for a second, as physical constraints and duties lifted from him. The gnarled voice that crept up from his feet warned him that now he'd had a taste, it would be more difficult to drop back to reality. Yet, it was so easy to just bask in it, and enjoy the beauty.

With the flowers at his heels and in the road beyond him, he felt like he could do anything. All his problems washed themselves away and happiness nipped at his edges like scissors tear at paper. He had become so accustomed to anxiety, he found it almost painful to watch the birds so carefree, and found it heart-wrenching to truly delight in the unspoilt beauty of the place. Was this what pure happiness was? You felt like your heart was breaking because you couldn't be like this forever? 

Harry's left eye suddenly caught view of a spiral of steam, billowing from the horizon lines of the landscape. Kicking his feet into a run, he bounded over to satisfy his curiosity. With every ion of energy, Harry felt that feeling of pureness flow through him like water, replenishing, reviving, and making him believe again. Harry swallowed roughly. Had he really felt that bad before? Had he lost hope before now?

Harry stopped, smiling involuntarily as he found the 'end of the rainbow.' Tom Riddle sat before him, cross-legged and toasting marshmallows over a small campfire. The chains were nowhere to be seen, and the pale ragged look of Tom had been replaced with a sleeker, attractive version of the boy. Harry imagined that this was how he would have looked in his last year at Hogwarts.

'Marshmallow?' Tom asked politely. Harry accepted one, nodding his thanks.

'What is this place?' Harry questioned.

'This… this is the place that we both envision.'

'Don't get me wrong,' Harry began carefully. 'I like it! But I don't know whether I'd ever really plant all these flowers.' Tom stopped him rolling his eyes.

'Try to think a bit less literally. Look at it as a metaphor.'

Harry looked around him and thought of his feeling of freedom. If the flowers represented his past and future, there was no uncertainty, no fear. If he could change one thing about his life, it would be that terror that everything he loved could be torn away from him in one swing of the executioners axe. Since he was ripped away from his parents, his life had been one series of accidents.

'See?' Tom smiled. 'It's nice not to worry.'

'I just wish that life was like that.' Harry roughly kicked off his shoes and wiggled his toes in the grass.

Tom nodded. 'I grew up in an orphanage. Fights led to fights led to fights, ad infinitum. Everything was about survival. Everyone needs time to themselves but there was no chance of that… I had to make my own rules. The other children were so fallible, so easy to manipulate that I didn't even have to try.' He smirked slightly, and Harry felt a grin threatening to take over his face. His conscience pricked him just enough to make him speak out.

'It still didn't give you the right,' Harry said dully, not really believing in his own words.

'What is the right? What about my needs?' Tom laughed a little at the other boy's discomfort. 'How hard do you think it is to grow up where no one understands you? Sometimes you have to make your own dreams come true. We can't all have wonderful lives like yours.' Tom chuckled to himself as Harry practically erupted next to him.

'I grew up with the Dursleys! I hated them! They kept me caged in a cupboard for eleven years! And you're saying you had the bad end of the stick!' Harry looked up at Tom, who narrowed his eyes and was smiling slightly. 'I guess I had to make my own rules too in the end. Dudley was very easy to manipulate I suppose. All I had to do was threaten him with magic and he'd do whatever I wanted,' Harry mused.

'And you, going on about my wrongdoings!' Tom kidded him playfully.

'They aren't the same!'

'They are!'

'Not!' Harry yelled laughing and launched himself towards a startled Tom. 

After looking at Harry as though he had gone crazy, Tom soon recovered and light-heartedly tussled with him in the long grass. They moved through the flowers in a frenetic embrace, and struggled against each other for dominance. It was an evenly matched contest with Harry's agility matching Tom's physical strength. 

Harry grabbed the arms of the flailing teenager and tried to roll Tom onto his front. But Tom was too quick, wrestling his hands away from the laughing Harry and grabbing his legs as they kicked out at him. He was the bigger of the two boys and soon had pinned Harry's hands down by his sides, straddling him. 

'Checkmate,' Tom said slightly evilly.


End file.
